Hello everyone, welcome to my fic! I hope you all enjoy.

Quick disclaimer: I am a 14 year old female, not the amazing Lin Manuel Miranda. Even tho i wish i did, i did not create the musical, Hamilton, nor to i take any credit for it. The only thing that is mine is the plot.

Also all the french is from google translate

Warnings for this chapter: suicide attempt, hospitals, mentioned child abuse, mentioned neglect, mentioned rape. If these things bother or trigger you, I urge you not to read this, its not wprth hurting anyone over. With that said, lets get on to the chapter!

I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory. This is where it gets me. My mind feels like a hurricane, bad thoughts non-stop. My past haunts me, no one was ever satisfied with who I was. I was beaten, raped. I felt so helpless, I didn't know how to say no. I know nobody cares for the bastard orphan immigrant. To all those who hurt me to the point of suicide, all I can say is congratulations..

Alex signed the note, his hand shaking as a single tear slid down his cheek. Calm down he told himself, it'll all be over soon, you won't have to deal with any of this anymore. Taking a deep breath, Alex grabbed the final four pills and swallowed them with a gulp of Vodka. As he waited for the effects to set in, he thought about his life. His mother's death, the short 2 months with his cousin before he killed himself. How he escaped the Caribbean, wrote his way through the hurricane that killed so many, people saw his writing and sent him to a foster home in New York to get an education. The Kings abused and tortured Alex, he was sent from one foster home to the next, each time either sent back because they couldn't handle him or because of neglect, abuse, rape, it was all the same. Now, finally he landed with the Washington's and their adopted son, Gil. It hadn't even been a week yet but this time, Alex wasn't going to let them kick him out or hurt him, Alex was going to do it himself.

Suddenly, Gil fell into Alex's room with a crash, "Mon ami! Je suis desole. I'm sorry. I mean to knock but the door, how you say, came open,"

Avoiding his eyes, Alex looked up at him, "It's okay, Gil. The door has been broken since I got here. What's up?"

Gil looked directly into his eyes, as if trying to see into his soul. Alex shifted uncomfortably and stared at his hands, praying he couldn't sense that something was wrong.

"mon ami, is something the matter?" he asked, concern on hiss face.

Alex took a deep breath, begging his voice to sound normal, "Nah, I'm fine. No need to worry," but Alex could tell Gil was already concerned. His eyes scanned the room, landing on the note.

"Ooh, mon ami! Have you written something? I must read it, I love your writing!" Excitedly, he snatched up the paper. before Alex could stop him, he was reading it aloud,

"I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory. You talk about death a lot, mon petit lion," Alex so badly wanted to snatch the paper out of his hands, but he knew it would raise suspicion. Alex was terrified, knowing in just a few seconds, Gil would find out it wasn't another of his essays.

"Gil, you don't want to read that, trust me, its really not interesting," Alex tried weekly.

"Nonsense, mon ami! I always love your writing, I could never find it anything but interesting!" he read on, "this is where it gets me. My mind feels like a hurricane, bad thoughts non-stop." Gil's face turned from excitement to concern as he read on, "My past haunts me, no one was ever satisfied with who I was, I was beaten, raped. I felt so helpless, I didn't know how to say no. I know nobody cares for the bastard orphan immigrant. Alex no!" Gil cried, tears streaming down his face as he ran to hug Alex. Suddenly Alex felt his vision blurring as nausea overcame him, "I'm so sorry Gil," he whispered, barely audible as darkness overtook him.

"GEORGE! MARTHA! Come quick!" Gil screamed louder than he'd previously thought possible. Gil could hear the sound of loud, thumping footsteps racing up the stairs. George and Martha rushed in, confusion and worry on their faces.

"Gil, what's going on?" Martha asked, looking into Gil's tear stained face.

"c'est alex! Il a écrit cette note, je pense qu'il a essayé de se suicider! Il s'est simplement effondré!" Gil cried in rapid-fire French.

" Calm down Gil, it's okay. Count with me Gil, breathe. Un, Deux, Trois, Quatre, Cinq, Six, Sept, Huit, Neuf," George soothed, counting in french until Gil's breath was steady once again, while Martha dialed 911, "now could you try to repeat what you said, in English so we understand?"

Gil took a breath and translated the sentence, "It's Alex, he wrote this note. I think he tried to commit suicide! He just collapsed," Gil started sobbing, "there was nothing I could do!" Gil collapsed and gripped onto Alex, sobbing.

George put his arm on his shoulder and spoke to him quietly, "shh I know, I know. You did everything just right." The scream of the sirens of the ambulance broke Gil from his thoughts as he snapped to action and carefully stood, Alex in his arms and carried him to the ambulance stretcher. George went in the ambulance with Alex, while Martha and Gil drove to the hospital in their car.